Shakespeare’s Othello presents a conundrum in that it is a logical postulation that evades resolution. Jesse Peach’s elegant production does little to resolve the debate as to who should shoulder the greater responsibility for the tragedy, Othello or Iago, and that’s probably a good thing. On balance, maybe it should be left for a never-ending debate over coffee and chardonnay subsequent to the event, as there is plenty else in this production that warrants discussion as well. 

Academic consensus has pretty much accepted that Shakespeare’s source for his Moor of Venis, as it was titled when first recorded in the Revels Office documents of 1604, was the Italian writer Cinthio’s yarn Un Capitano Moro,which was in turn borrowed, in style at least, from Boccaccio’s Decameron.But this is also open to debate as there was no known English translation of Cinthio’s work in Shakespeare’s lifetime, nor is it recorded anywhere that I can find that Shakepeare read Italian. Another school of thought has Cinthio’s plot based on an actual 1508 event but Shakespeare’s narrative also bears remarkable similarities to The Three Apples from One Thousand and One Nights.   

None of this matters, however, when in 2011 a decision is made to stage this great tragedy in Auckland, New Zealand. Nor is it of any real importance to the audience that the play might have been written in 1603 or 1604, perhaps 1601 or 1602, and that it was first published by Thomas Walkely in quarto in 1621. It’s interesting stylistically, all the same, primarily because it bumps up against a serious change of direction for the bard, a change that leads to the oddly named Romances and Shakespeare’s premature death … and so the debate rages on.

Othello has some pretty relevant themes and we all know what they are: racism, jealousy, betrayal, blind lust and equally sightless love. Knowing what they are, and a general familiarity with the plot and the characters – not to mention the actors – added an interesting frisson to the opening night performance that hopefully won’t blemish the rest of the season as this production and, I suspect, all others of this grand work, require a suspension of disbelief for the whole to succeed.

Everyone knows that opening nights are often something to be endured before the actors can get on and fully come to grips with the play. There are always the ‘it’s all about me’ attendees who speak too loudly, who need everyone within earshot to know that they advised the director on the choice of preshow music and that they were extremely glad that Edith Piaf wasn’t chosen to welcome the audience into the theatre, a thoughtful acknowledgement that the director had listened to and heeded this friend’s advice. Personally, I thought the decision to play well-known Edith Piaf tracks early in the preshow was a good one and regretted that the director’s friend arrived too late to enjoy them, but such is life. 

My point is: most audiences, on any night, go to the theatre to experience the play and that this requires a shared decision by those attending to support and sustain the experience of everyone present. Regardless of who and what we might know, and even wish to share, we should repress this desire for the common good. It we don’t we risk spoiling the experience for others and making tits of ourselves. Enough said! 

Jesse Peach is a relative new pup on the dog-eat-dog theatre scene but he’s clearly a thoroughbred. His independent Peach Theatre Company – first production, a modest Billy Liar in West Auckland a mere six years ago – has flourished to the point that he can mount what is without doubt a significant new work in collaboration with prestigious artists and actually bring it off. Not fully, but to such a degree that to call Peach a prodigy is not without some considerable justification.

Collaboration with choreographer Douglas Wright and composer Gareth Farr, to name but two, immediately placed this production in the ‘must see’ basket but that is way too easy to say. Reflect for a moment on the courage it must have taken, first, to talk to these two iconic figures from different but parallel disciples, second, to sell the idea that your creative concept – Shakespeare, contemporary dance and original music – might just work and, third, that these guys could actually trust you to create and share the journey with them in ways that would, at worst, not damage reputations, is quite extraordinary. As Cassio bemoaned his reputation, reputation, reputation I was more than a smidgeon reminded of what was at stake for all involved in this production and felt moved by the risks they had all taken. Such risks deserve applause and I, for one, certainly applaud these men for theirs. Not that they were alone.

Iago, of course, also has a bit to say about reputation. “Reputation,” he says, “is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser” – but who, in hindsight, would believe anything this arch villain said.

Entering the theatre is always an determining moment and to be greeted by Emily O’Hara’s numinous staging was breathtaking and continued to be so as the show’s secrets unfolded, thanks in no small part to Rachel Marlow’s potent lighting design.

The gaping Maidment stage is lit in deep midnight blue with a circular centrepiece that might have been anything from a rostrum to a bed to a covered spa pool. Barely visible lines on the floor disappearing into a dark distance are replicated in the air above the stage with what appears to be five strips of blue light receding to a pinpoint in the blackness. The space has a magical and mysterious neutrality.

The stylised opening of the show has Douglas Wright written all over it which is no bad thing. There are faces variously covered with cloth and this is a constant throughout the work. It reflects the text because no-one sees through Iago’s duplicity, simply no-one, and this is the core difficulty for actors and director – and choreographer – because we, the audience, are the only ones party to Iago’s villainy and the danger is that we will find it ridiculous that the other characters don’t see through him as we have. It’s all about credibility, after all.

It’s a joy to experience George Henare as Brabantio. He speaks the language with power and authority and we feel the agony of the father betrayed while, at the same time, feeling safe in the hands of this consummate artist. There is a sense in the early passages – the textual torment of Brabantio by Iago whose bestial imagery actually includes lines like “an old black ram is tupping your white ewe”; “you’ll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse” and “your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs” – that the racial and generational issues will be underplayed, and so it transpires for this is a production that focuses on jealousy and betrayal and plays down the power of the other themes.

Henare finds a delicious balance between an elevated style of delivery and the intelligence of the text that is both traditional and very, very real. Here is a character whose nobility cannot be questioned yet whose antiquated values are used by Iago to detonate the plots he has laid, and to turn his inductions dangerous into action. Brabantio is left to utter that most prophetic line, spoken to Othello: “She has deceived her father, and may thee.” Thus the seed is sown. 

Iago is played by Matt Minto with all the requisite charm and rascally good humour necessary to carry his credibility as far as it needs to go. He’s the everybloke we all trust but who we never really get to know, the guy the media tells us, after the event, lived next door but showed no signs of being the monster he was about to become. Minto is an apt villain but less so the credible workaday soldier which is a shame because he works with the text – and he has plenty of it – with a naturalist ease that makes it accessible to everyone and his relationships with his fellow characters are finely tuned. There is a danger in overstating Iago and Minto avoids this trap effortlessly. He starts the play a trifle unsure but hits his straps early and his is excellent work indeed. From his somewhat unfussy –
“… I hate the Moor
And it is thought abroad, that ’twixt my sheets
He has done my office: I know not if ’t be true;
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do as if for surety.”
– we are aware that here is a mirrored image, and that Iago’s plan that can only end in death before bedtime. Here is a character with little conscience, one who seems to have a fiend at both elbows driving him to a villainy beyond reckoning. 

Robbie Magasiva cuts a dash as Othello. He looks magnificent and mostly makes a good fist of the complexities of the language and this can only improve. The best is brilliant as the greater the emotional challenge the better Magasiva’s performance becomes – and Othello’s emotional journey from hero to zero is profound. Unlike many Othello’s I have seen who manage the domestic but fall at the high hurdles, Magasiva does the opposite, never missing a beat with the hard stuff but tending to underpay the everyday.

His relationship with Iago is complex and it’s easy to see why he has overlooked his ancient in favour of Cassio yet is able to maintain a friendship based on his misguided trust. Casting against Shakespeare’s text is always a vexed option – Othello is said to be an “old black ram” rather than a powerful young buck – and in this case it removes a major motive for jealousy, that of the older man fearful of being replaced by the younger, but Magasiva finds alternatives that make it work for him.

Morgana O’Reilly has got Desdemona just right. None of the look sweet, daddy’s girl, do-as-she’s-told innocent here as O’Reilly’s bride is both spirited and sassy in all the right ways. She did, after all, go against her father’s wishes in marrying this hunky Othello and not just that, she seriously peeved him off! She’s feisty to the end and doesn’t die easily, a real high-point of this production. 

Matt Walker’s Cassio is a bit of a curate’s egg with the good bits being very good and the not so good bits still OK which ensures he serves the play and the production and always drives it forward. As a dupe to Iago his does the job well.

It’s good to be able to celebrate women in Shakespeare and Peach has ensured that all three, despite their roles being comparatively small, are real flesh and blood and are honoured in the text. O’Reilly I have mentioned but she – and the play – are wonderfully served by Olivia Tennet (Emilia) and Gypsy Kauta (Bianca).

Tennet is a worldly Emilia, sexy and fun, and in no way in awe of her iniquitous husband, and the scene where she and Desdemona discuss marital fidelity has an honesty and propinquity that is truly exciting.

Bianca is often seen as merely a cipher, a means to an end, but Gypsy Kauta has put fire in her belly and, along with O’Reilly and Tennet, physicalises the text in an electrifying way. The women also provide excellent fodder for the genius of choreographer Douglas Wright who makes the most of their physical skills and performer intelligence at every opportunity. 

Rounding out the cast are Ciarin Smith as a competent Roderigo, Kevin Keys as Lodovico and a handy horn player, and the evergreen Ken Blackburn as a dignified Duke of Venice along with Othello’s sardonic servant, the latter in true – and most memorable – clown fashion. Blackburn’s dismissal of the raucous gang of musicians from outside his master’s house is one of the most memorable scenes of the evening. 

Gareth Farr’s music is fantastic, evocative, compassionate and far more than the standard ‘hide the plumbing’ bridge between scenes. His soundscapes augment the text and support the plot with apposite aural imagery, none better than that which accompanies the disclosure of Cassio’s manufactured disgrace. It’s as if he and Wright have got into the head of this play of words and, in miniature form, understood utterly what it’s all about. Clever Mr Farr and clever Mr Wright – and doubly clever Mr Peach! 

All theatre is as much about what you choose not to do as it is what you choose to do and Jesse Peach’s direction and the instincts of his actors have shied the production away from many of the standard pitfalls. It’s not pretentious, it’s not pompous and at all times ‘the play’s the thing.’ This is more than just refreshing, it’s positively invigorating.

There are a few treasures – O’Hara’s set and Marlow’s lighting; the hauntingly beautiful Willow Song; the closing of the eyes of the corpses; Wright’s work with the women; Ken Blackburn’s clown; the death of Desdemona; the breathtaking means whereby the bodies are finally hidden from sight – and a few things I didn’t care for, such as all the pointing and the odd bit of wandering. But, all in all, this is a powerful and accurate new look at a most difficult play staged by an exciting new company for whom mediocrity is not an option.

If you have international visitors – or friends of any sort – encourage them to see this world class work, especially if they like to debate challenging art. They, and you, won’t be disappointed.
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